


Chicken Soup and *Insert Cockerel Pun*

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: '“I’ll warm you up!” Kazuichi promises.When he said that, Hajime assumed that Kazuichi meant with the soup, but then Kazuichi actually seats himself on Hajime’s lap. His weight presses down and on auto-pilot, Hajime places his hands onto Kazuichi’s hips, staring up at him with confusion.“Wh-?” Hajime gets out before Kazuichi slips his hand under Hajime’s chin and pushes up, shutting Hajime’s mouth.“Let me take care of you, alright?” says Kazuichi with a smirk, but there’s a hard edge to his tone.'Hinata seems to be coming down with something. Souda tries to help.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Soda Kazuichi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	Chicken Soup and *Insert Cockerel Pun*

“ACHOO!”

Even though it’s the fifth time Hajime has sneezed in the past ten minutes, Kazuichi nearly jumps off the couch, twitching violently. The harsh sound soon fades from their apartment’s living room, and Kazuichi swivels around to pull a face at Hajime, who sits next to him.

“Dude!” goes Kazuichi.

Hajime sniffs and raises a handkerchief to his rosy nose.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he says, muffled, and even after he lowers the handkerchief from his face, he still sounds muffled. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

Kazuichi cocks his head to one side. For a moment, Hajime thinks Kazuichi has something insightful to say, judging by Kazuichi’s serious expression, but then Kazuichi looks away and rubs the back of his neck.

“Geez, that sucks,” says Kazuichi.

The light in Hajime’s face switches off. He opens his mouth, only for Kazuichi to look at him again and speak first.

“You want me to get you some soup?” suggests Kazuichi. 

Hajime’s faith in humanity is restored. Izuru Kamukura stays dormant for another day.

“That would be great!” Hajime replies, perking up, and both grin as Kazuichi rises from the couch. Kazuichi gives a quick wave before striding off, disappearing into the kitchen.

While he waits, Hajime shifts until he’s more comfortable and picks up the remote on the armrest beside him. The credits of a science entertainment programme roll on the television. He flicks through different channels until a minute later, when he settles on a documentary about climate change and relaxes, sniffling a little. 

It starts and Hajime watches quietly. After about fifteen minutes, a voiceover wraps up a narration summarising a period of billions of years, and an advert break commences. Hajime frowns. Microwavable soup only takes a few minutes to heat up, definitely less than fifteen, so Hajime wonders if Kazuichi has opted to make soup from scratch. Kazuichi isn’t exactly a chef, but he has tinkered with their kitchen appliances and cooks more often than Hajime, so it isn’t inconceivable, Hajime supposes.

With that in mind, Hajime assumes Kazuichi is either preparing soup using base ingredients or something has gone wrong. In any case, Hajime decides to remain where he is and wait.

And wait.

The documentary resumes. 

Five minutes in, the door opens. Not the door to the kitchen, though, but the other door. Hajime sits up and turns around, and when he sees Kazuichi, he widens his eyes.

When Kazuichi left the room, he had been wearing a t-shirt with a faded emblem of a rock group on the front and some old jeans. Now, he wears something completely different. 

A butler outfit. 

White shirt, black suit, black pants and polished shoes. It makes his bright pink hair stand out even more. Kazuichi struts over with one hand underneath a tray, carrying a server platter, lid and all. 

Hajime’s eyes bulge, unable to look away, and when Kazuichi arrives in front of him, Kazuichi pushes his hips out to one side and puts his free hand onto his waist.

“What’d ya think?” asks Kazuichi. His sharp white teeth show in his grin, but as flashy as they are, it doesn’t quite distract from how red his face has flushed.

The capability of thought returns to Hajime.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, pointing a finger at Kazuichi feebly. “When?”

“Online,” explains Kazuichi. He twists his hips, modelling for him, but then, receiving no response, he hesitates. “What, you don’t like it?”

“N-No!” Hajime blurts with a wave of his hands, and when Kazuichi squints, he adds quickly, “I mean, I do like it! I’m just surprised, honestly... Why did you get it?”

“I was going to save it for your birthday,” Kazuichi replies. He shrugs and looks away, and winds a lock of hair around his finger. “In some of my shows, the actors dressed up, and I... um...”

Kazuichi trails off.

“... thought we could as well?” Hajime finishes, and Kazuichi nods, still with his head turned away. 

Part of Hajime wants to sigh. Hajime knows what Kazuichi means by ‘shows’, as surprisingly delicately as Kazuichi puts it, but he keeps quiet. The television chatters in the background as Kazuichi sets down the platter on the coffee table in front of Hajime. With a flourish, Kazuichi takes the lid off, revealing a bowl of chicken soup.

Yep. This is ready made. They have a few cans of the soup in a cupboard, and the leaf garnishing the top appears to have come from a potted plant they own, but a small smile rises to Hajime’s lips nonetheless.

“Thanks, Kazuichi,” he says, and he starts to lean forward, only to throw his shoulders back as a sneeze rattles him. Its boom fills his head and he covers his mouth and nose with his handkerchief just in time, then shivers.

Kazuichi scratches the bridge of his nose, peering at Hajime with his eyebrows arched.

“You cold?” he asks.

“Kinda, yeah,” admits Hajime, hugging himself, and Kazuichi raises his fists.

“I’ll warm you up!” Kazuichi promises.

When he said that, Hajime assumed that Kazuichi meant with the soup, but then Kazuichi actually seats himself on Hajime’s lap. His weight presses down and on auto-pilot, Hajime places his hands onto Kazuichi’s hips, staring up at him with confusion.

“Wh-?” Hajime gets out before Kazuichi slips his hand under Hajime’s chin and pushes up, shutting Hajime’s mouth.

“Let me take care of you, alright?” says Kazuichi with a smirk, but there’s a hard edge to his tone.

Hajime doesn’t move. Just gazes back at him, holding his breath. Kazuichi shifts his hand and strokes the corner of Hajime’s lips with his thumb. The crease in Hajime’s forehead smooths, and as Kazuichi lowers his head, relocating his thumb to the side and crading Hajime’s cheek, Kazuichi’s eyes creep shut and so do Hajime’s different coloured pair. 

Their lips press together briefly. A spark flares in Hajime’s chest. Then Kazuichi recedes a little, eyes half-open. Hajime’s chest tightens with desire. The television mumbles, sounding like static.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick?” murmurs Hajime.

“Nah.” Kazuichi speaks just as quietly, and touches his next kiss against the side of Hajime’s neck. “I don’t get sick.”

That’s a bold claim, and Hajime tries to think back, find a memory that contradicts this, but Kazuichi’s breath skims up Hajime’s neck, flooding out all other thought. Hajime shudders and wraps his arms around Kazuichi’s middle, pulling him closer. Pleasure blooms in Hajime’s chest. His mind returns to the present where Kazuichi straddles him, grips Hajime’s shoulders with his hands, and Hajime groans as Kazuichi’s lips reunite with him, push against Hajime harder. 

This time, Kazuichi doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t just peck at him. Kazuichi relaxes against Hajime, cosying up against him. To an outsider, they must look like an odd pair, one dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans while Kazuichi wears a butler outfit from a party store. That doesn’t matter though, to either of them, because nowadays they both feel like they belong after living so long wishing they could be someone else, someone more, when they had always been enough from the beginning. The other reassures them of this. 

Hajime’s fingers glide up the smooth costume material and tuck into Kazuichi’s hair. He sinks deeper into the couch the more Kazuichi slumps into him, the more they kiss. In the two years they’ve been together as a couple, they’ve kissed plenty of times in plenty of places, and there are no sensations like fireworks while they taste, feel each other. Instead, Hajime’s chest swells, like the lights being switched on after a long day at work, revealing the same old room that one comes home to every evening. There’s no unique taste either - Kazuichi’s lips taste like lips, and the inside of his mouth is just wet, but the knowledge that it’s Kazucihi is enough. That it’s his tongue that flickers across his lips, his teeth that awkwardly clink against his as he repositions himself. 

Kazuichi draws back briefly only to dart forward again, locking their lips together once more. His hips hitch up and Hajime reclines onto his back, with Kazuichi dipping down with him, and Hajime slides his hands to Kazuichi’s outer thighs. 

Though Hajime tugs, it’s not enough to pull Kazuichi’s pants down at all, but it’s enough for Kazuichi to notice. He feels Kazuichi gulp, feels the quiver of his lips, feels him lift his head. Their puckered mouths pop apart, but Kazuichi keeps close.

“Oi,” Kazuichi whispers, peppering his breath against Hajime’s ear. “I said I’m gonna warm you up, yeah?”

“Uh, huh,” hums Hajime, barely breathing, and Kazuichi clambours off him. Hajime doesn’t sit up properly, but he doesn’t need to, able to see how Kazuichi settles at the foot of the couch, one hand splayed out on Hajime’s thigh, the other suspended near his own cheek. 

With Kazuichi kneeling on the floor while Hajime lies like this, Hajime’s already tipped off on what Kazuichi has planned, but he still stutters in his inhale when Kazuichi cups his crotch. The fabric rubs. Kazuichi licks his lips, flaunting his jagged teeth, and Hajime swallows.

“What about the soup?” asks Hajime, chest rising and falling, and Kazuichi shoots a dull glare at him.

“I’m about to go down on you, and all you can think about is the soup?” retorts Kazuichi, and he squeezes Hajime through his pants. Hajime tenses. 

Not from pain though. His lashes flutter.

Kazuichi flicks his other wrist and scoffs, “I’ll reheat it if it bothers you that much.”

“That’s not it,” says Hajime, shaking his head. “It’s just... I really appreciate the effort. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

And Kazuichi wavers. His hand slackens around Hajime’s bulge. Then Kazuichi’s features pull back together, and he gives a laugh.

“Damn, Hajime...” Kazuichi flashes a grin. “You keep saying sweet stuff like that and I’m gonna end up crying all over your dick.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” says Hajime, quirking one end of his lips in half a smile, but the curve of his lips dissolves as Kazuichi grasps him harder through his pants. Hajime’s mouth contorts and creaks, letting out a low moan, and Kazuichi reaches his hand down the front of Hajime’s pants to play with what’s inside. The pants that Hajime has on don’t leave Kazuichi much room to maneuver his hand in, somewhat tight, but he makes do.

Kazuichi’s hand is warm and firm and he can’t have indulged himself for that long, maybe a minute at the most, but Hajime is internally screaming by the time Kazuichi mercifully unzips Hajime. His pants come off easily, especially when his hands join Kazuichi in fumbling them down his legs, leaving Hajime in his t-shirt and boxers. 

Though this is nothing Kazuichi hasn’t seen before, the corners of Kazuichi’s lips soar higher at the sight of his boxers tenting, and he wraps his fingers eagerly around Hajime’s length. Now, without Hajime’s pants in the way, Kazuichi can get more movement with his fist, and he pumps Hajime through the fabric. 

Hajime’s breath rasps against the back of his throat, sounding like a purr, and he feels like an itch that he couldn’t reach is finally being scratched at. Kazuichi bobs his hand several times before intensifying his grip for a few seconds, then he resumes with another round until he gives another squeeze. His grasp is never loose, but it pulses harder at intervals, and each time renews the shocks that skittle through Hajime’s thighs. Adds to the tension pooling in his crotch. 

The more Kazuichi works on Hajime, the more Hajime’s muscles tighten, and Hajime’s clenching his fists, digging his nails into his palms, when Kazuichi yanks down his underwear.

A thin layer of precum sits at the end of Hajime’s length, which stands proudly, free of the restraints of clothing. Kazuichi spares a moment to admire it, then he balls a fist at Hajime’s base and tilts the end of Hajime’s length toward himself. Keeping his gaze on it, Kazuichi shuffles closer to the couch on his knees, and he starts with a delicate lick over the slit on Hajime’s head. The swipe by Kazuichi’s warm, wet tongue trickles through Hajime’s crotch, rippling through his thighs. Hajime sits up more, propping himself on his elbow, and gently hooks his fingers through Kazuichi’s hair. 

This simple action encourages Kazuichi, and he runs his tongue over the same spot again, only firmer this time, and Hajime’s toes curl. A moan gives him away.

Kazuichi glances up and twists his grip on the base of Hajime’s length. His eyes gleam and Hajime’s heart swoops. The tremor on Hajime’s face satisfies Kazuichi, whose eyes creep more shut as he leans in. He parks his tongue by his fist, on the underside of Hajime’s length, then, slowly, he drags his tongue up the vein running across it. 

As his lick passes over the fold leading to the head, Kazuichi curls his tongue into his mouth, and swallows. Hajime groans and pulls on Kazuichi’s hair, his knees bending in. Kazuichi re-angles himself but only slightly, swirling his tongue around Hajime’s seeping tip, and then he maneuvers his tongue so it lies flat against the underside of Hajime’s length. 

His tongue seems to vibrate against Hajime as he seals his lips around the head, forming a tight, hot suction. 

Despite Kazuichi’s full set of sharp teeth, at no point does Hajime feel them against him, and for that he’s glad. There are no bites, just sucking, just slurps, and a smooth tongue fondling his sensitive head. Hajime squirms as Kazuichi’s tongue ignites his nerve endings, sets him aglow, and his fingers lock into Kazuichi’s hair tighter when Kazuichi starts rocking his head against him, taking more of Hajime into his mouth. 

At first, Kazuichi doesn’t stray far, lapping around Hajime’s head, and at his most shallow depths, Hajime can see his skin gleam with saliva where Kazuichi’s mouth has been. Because not much of Hajime is in his mouth yet, Kazuichi’s tongue has more space to steer about in. It brushes against the underside. Swerves and traces over Hajime’s sensitive head. The slow pace leaves Hajime in barely restrained jitters, tantalising him. Kazuichi keeps looking up, and he knows, he knows, yet he keeps it up until Hajime’s whine hits the right note.

That prompts Kazuichi to align his head more with Hajime’s length, letting Kazuichi start pushing more of his length into his mouth. He huffs through his nose, and as more time elapses, his pushes evolve into lurches. 

When Kazuichi had vowed to warm up Hajime, he wasn’t kidding. 

His mouth envelops Hajime in moist heat, and though Kazuichi bounces against him, he still doesn’t take all of Hajime in. However, so not to leave where his mouth doesn’t reach neglected, Kazuichi’s clammy hand kneads the base of Hajime’s length, drifting only in small bursts to grope Hajime’s balls.

The two stimuli - Kazuichi’s hand and mouth - toil away, unrelenting, and the energy bubbling, building in Hajime can only go higher from here. Hajime’s hips twitch with more frequency but he resists the burning desire in him to thrust, even when Kazuichi recedes to the head with an almighty slurp that makes Hajime moan, makes him arch his back. 

Kazuichi charges his head faster, and his breaths blast out from his nose, more erratic, more hungry. Meanwhile, Hajime’s world drains of colour into a brilliant, blinding white, and he scrunches his face at its intensity. 

At that moment, with a cry, he thrashes his hips, releasing the tension that pulses through his body. Seconds later, the world fades back in, the sofa, the living room, the photographs on the wall, and Kazuichi’s face gets a good splatter of white, some getting on and past his lips. The remainder streak his chest. Kazuichi licks his lips, catching some of it, and swallows.

Hajime breathes loudly.

“Feeling any better?” asks Kazuichi, still at the foot of the couch.

Before Hajime can answer, Kazuichi sneezes. The room seems to ring afterwards. Then Kazuichi snorts. Hajime shakes his head.

“So much for never getting sick,” says Hajime, holding in a sigh. He wags a finger. “Am I going to have to warm you up now?”

Kazuichi blinks, then lowers his hand and smirks.

“I wouldn’t say no,” he tells him.


End file.
